I got an e-mail today from a Green Genius reader who wanted to know the identity of that handsome young scribe immediately to your right. The reason why she didn't recognize him was because we're used to seeing him balding and bearded like so:
Yep, it's the great Charles Dickens. And if Bill Shakespeare was a better writer, then he's the only one. I can't remember the names or anything else about the characters in the novel I read last month, but I can never forget Uriah Heep, Steerforth, Peggotty and Mr. Peggotty, Ham, the Murdstones, Aunt Betsey Trotwood, Little Em'ly, Mr. Dick, Mrs. Gummidge (that "lone, lorn creetur") and of course, Wilkins Micawber -- and those are all from just one of Dickens's books.
By what I consider an odd coincidence the question about this writer was sent on Dickens's birthday. He was born on February 7th, 1812, so today is his 195th birthday -- or, it would have been his 195th birthday if he had taken better care of himself.